Wedding Day
by LoonyLoopyLuna
Summary: On her wedding day, Ginny Weasley reflects on the man she loves - and why he isn't the one waiting for her at the altar. Inspired by Dido's "White Flag."


**Wedding Day**

By LoonyLoopyLuna

I stand here, perfectly still, as Mum and Hermione make last minute alterations to my robe. It is creamy satin with delicate embroidery along the hems, and I stare at the winding thread that makes this outfit beautiful to look at. Under the soft robe is a gown of the same color, but that layer of my outfit doesn't make me feel warm inside. It makes my bones freeze, not because I don't like it, but because it symbolizes my marriage to a man who loves me – and that's all.

_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you _

_I'll tell you that_

Mum finishes altering the robe from the back and looks at my reflection in the mirror. I look at myself, too, but I see nothing but despair and regret. She doesn't see that, though; she thinks I'm nervous. "Cheer up, darling," she smiles, and starts fixing my hair. Hermione then finishes her side of the robe and straightens up to see my reflection. I look down, hiding my expression, because Hermione always knew what I was thinking. If she only knew what I was thinking then...

_But if I didn't say it _

_Well I'd still have felt it_

_Where's the sense in that?_

I'm staring at my hands now. They've gotten thinner in the past few months, ever since I got engaged. I'm still wearing my engagement ring, so I take it off and put it on my right finger; my left ring finger will hold my wedding ring from now on – a wedding ring from the man who loves me – and that's all.

I knew it would eventually come to this, somehow. The day You-Know-Who was defeated was the day I accepted reality: there was no alternate universe in which we could be together. I was meant to be with someone else, as was he, no matter how much he had already gone against. Our past would never be our future. There would be no more stolen kisses or secret snogging sessions. I would never be able to talk to him again and feel like he listened to my soul. I would have to accept it. And I did. Now my hair has been arranged and Hermione is applying numerous glamour charms to my face. As she forces me to look at my reflection in the mirror, I push the despair and regret out of my expression. She sees a glowing Ginevra Weasley; I see a person who has lost all hope.

What had I to hope for, anyway? A happy marriage? Everyone would hope for that, but they know that's a given. It _must_ be a happy marriage, for the sake of so many people, including the man who will wait for me at the altar. I do not hope for a happy marriage, for I already know he will be happy, because he loves me – and that's all.

At one point, I did hope for many things. I hoped the man I love would "see sense" and leave the one he was with. I hoped the man who loves me wouldn't ask me to marry him. I hoped for a colder heart so I wouldn't have to be so heartbroken. I suppose that hope was satisfied.

As I stand in front of the mirror (who whistles appreciatively), I look at my reflection once more. Mum and Hermione have left the room, and I'm alone. I have fifteen minutes to myself – the last fifteen minutes I will be Ginny Weasley. Tonight, I will not be a girl with forgotten hopes and dreams. I will be a wife to the man who loves me – not the man I love.

_I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder _

_Or return to where we were_

We had decided to stop meeting when I found out what he was – whom he had pledged himself to. We were both young and in school. I vowed to forget him and I did – or I thought I did. In the midst of the war he became a spy on the Dark Side, defying everything he had ever known. I never knew how he did it; I never saw him until after the war was over. The only one I saw was the man who loves me – and he was the one who needed me most. Again, I vowed to forget the man I love, but it didn't work.

_Well I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be_

He's with the woman who would move mountains to be with him – she followed him to the Light side – maybe it's better that way. I haven't made any effort to be with him. Do I deserve him? Did he even think of us when he read of my engagement in the _Daily Prophet_? Did he love me? Or am I fooling myself? Because no matter how hard I've tried, I can't forget him. Even on my wedding day, I can't forget how much I want him to be waiting at the altar instead.

After glancing at the clock (I have 11 minutes), I think about the last time I saw him. The annual Ministry ball is the one time of the year that I see everyone I've bothered to keep in touch with. I also see him – but last year he had Pansy Parkinson on his arm, being the perfect person she is.

_And when we meet _

_Which I'm sure we will_

_All that was then_

_Will be there still_

_I'll let it pass_

_And hold my tongue_

_And you will think_

_That I've moved on..._

That was the last time I looked into his eyes, that cool spring night. We didn't say anything – we weren't close enough to greet one another. Somehow I sensed his eyes on me, but when I looked in his direction he was looking at anything but me. I had my own date that evening: the same one I would bind myself to in nine minutes.

I act like I've moved on, and on the outside, I have. He knows it, and he's taken the hint. So why do I feel depressed every time I think of him? I stopped our relationship; I didn't talk to him again, even though I loved him. He had told me he loved me, and I wonder if he was telling the truth. I wonder if things would be different if I had confronted him after the war. Would I be here now, in this beautiful robe that makes my heart feel frozen? A bittersweet smile graces my lips, because I already know the answers to all my questions. I wouldn't be who I am if I had said something to him. Anything. I let him pass by me without a word. I ignored everything he had become and settled for someone I don't love. The man at the altar loves me, I'm sure of it – but no matter how hard I try, I can never love him, because someone else already has my heart. And I don't want it back.

Well I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be 

Dad's calling me now; he's waiting outside the door. Mum, Hermione, Ron, the twins, Bill, and Charlie are waiting outside, where the wedding will take place in the shade of several trees. And Harry, he'll be waiting at the altar.

I step into the aisle on the arm of my father. Everyone's eyes are on me, even Draco's – but I look straight head to the man who loves me, that same bittersweet smile on my lips. I could say no and break his heart; I could be selfish and go back to Draco, because we are both selfish when given the chance. But I won't be selfish this time; Harry doesn't deserve that. And Draco is with a girl who loves him. Maybe he loves her, I'll never know. All I know is that he loved me once. A long time ago.

I'm looking into Harry's eyes now, remembering how I admired those brilliant green irises. But I will never love them, because I will always prefer gray eyes. He's saying his vows now, and it seems as if he memorized them. I didn't practice saying vows; I didn't want to.

I see Draco in the corner of my sight, sitting two rows back. He stares at us with an unreadable expression, and Pansy Parkinson sits next to him, trying not to look bored. I keep my voice steady as I start saying my vows. I can almost feel the sigh of relief as I finish. The last thing I see before Harry kisses me is Draco's piercing stare. I wish it had been him, but now it is impossible.

I am Ginevra Potter now, and will be for the rest of my life. Draco will marry Pansy, and she'll be happy – because she adores him. Maybe he has forgotten me and how much he meant to me, but I will never forget him. I can't forget. But I know he thinks I have.

That's why I don't cry when I read of his engagement to Pansy Parkinson in the next Monday's _Prophet_. I made my choice; I'm living with it. I only wish I had had more nerve to say no.

Harry loves me, and I should feel lucky. But I feel ashamed. No matter how many times my husband tells me he loves me, I will imagine Draco when I answer him. I will never rid myself of him. A person like him has a special place in my heart. It's not like I want to stop loving him.

Quite the opposite, actually.

_Fin_

_Author's Notes:_

I was in a particularly depressed mood when I wrote this, otherwise I normally don't think of Draco and Ginny being separated for any reason. I know it isn't possible canon-wise (I resigned myself to that fact after I finished the fifth book), but this is fanon, so...

Please take some time and review this. I want to know what other authors think of my writing so I can become a better one myself. Thank you.


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